


Leather Bound Wrists

by Agib



Series: Febuwhump 2020 [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Tony Stark, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Murder, Not Really Character Death, Protective Tony Stark, Timeline Shenanigans, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agib/pseuds/Agib
Summary: Six days ago Peter was dropped off at a safe house byTony Stark.For six days, Tony Stark was under the impression that Peter was dead.After six days of searching,Tony Starkmurders the man that hurt Peter in his timeline, and would have hurt Peter inthistimeline.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Febuwhump 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619311
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115





	Leather Bound Wrists

**Author's Note:**

> So this hurt to write even I'm confused. Basically Tony Stark from one timeline has his Peter Parker murdered, tortured, etc. He's so upset about it that he's been jumping around timelines, dropping Peter at safe houses and murdering what would have been his killer. This is written from _real Tony's_ POV, so he genuinely thinks Peter's dead for a bit while he was at the safe house until Tony from another timeline shows him the photographs he was sent of Peter from his timeline.

\---- **10th August 2017** \----

Tony wiped a bead of rain off his temple, biting back a sigh for the fourth time in the last eighteen minutes. Rhodey gave a small glance in the mechanic’s direction, a saddened look of sympathy crossing his face as he continued to speak. Tony could see his friend’s fingers gripping the short, black podium.

Another droplet of rain fell on Tony’s shoulder. He looked up to see the flimsy blue tarp leaking plaintively. He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. Time travelled by in a thick haze of speech after speech. Soon enough, Rhodey was sat back at his side, one plastic chair over. 

There was a permanent lump buried in the back of Tony’s throat, a lead weight sitting in the pit of his stomach which he knew would never disperse like he wished it would. Sure, scotch and pitchers full of heavy liquors might make the weight a bit fuzzier for an afternoon, but the knowledge of how contradictory and disrespectful the action would be would thrum throughout his entire body regardless.

Peter had never liked the idea of him drinking.

He glanced to his left, ignoring whoever was droning on at the podium out of respect and nothing else. The memorial cards rested against the register stand, Tony forced himself to look away and ignore the weight of his own copy of the page tucked away in his blazer pocket. He didn’t want to look at it, he didn’t want it to be real.

The funeral director had mentioned something about how the last picture of a loved one has strong psychological impact on the mourners by helping them relieve painful memories of the accident. Tony didn’t disagree despite the fact that he had done nothing but disagree with the man since the beginning of the funeral planning.

_He wanted to be cremated, not buried. He didn’t like roses, he liked lilies – the purple ones. He didn’t want a casket; he didn’t want to have his funeral in a church which would overcharge them. He had made a joke about playing ‘Another one Bites the Dust’ as his ashes were spread. Tony had laughed_.

“… had the best smile… all hope he’s in a better place… – we’re going to miss him more than anything…”

Tony chewed at a hangnail on his thumb, his knee bouncing beneath his elbows as he idly stared straight through Happy at the podium and focused on the quiet breathing of Rhodey from his side.

“Tones,” he muttered.

“Hm?” Tony looked up, frowning at the loose grip on time he seemed to be struggling with.

“You’re up,” Rhodey said encouragingly. Happy was settled back in his seat on Tony’s opposite side. He looked about as numb as Tony felt.

“Yeah,” he obliged. The screws on his plastic chair rattled vexingly. He could see May’s hair as he circled around the small cluster of seats all gathered under the ‘weatherproof’ tarp. _As if it actually kept the rain out_. She had a yellow hair tie keeping her ponytail loose against the base of her skull. There was a packet of tissues clutched in her fist.

Tony wished he could bring her kid back.

The podium came up to his chest, and he gripped the sides of it, same as Rhodey had. He took a breath, pushing back against the lump in his chest. He wanted to turn himself inside out and bury his head in the sand where he could imagine a reality where his life wasn’t missing one of the most important pieces.

Tony winced as a bead of rain rolled down the back of his neck. “He uh – he meant a lot to all of us, clearly.” He briefly wished he had paid attention to anything Rhodey and Happy had said so far, because it felt wrong to stand up there and immediately dig into the reason they were all gathered. The lump was clawing its way up his throat, he felt like digging it out with a knife. “Pete – um, h – he had an exorbitant number of shitty things happen to him in his life. But I guess, this is karma for us, he’s handed the Parker luck onto us.”

His eye twitched. May shuffled in her seat with a sniffle and Tony choked out a bitter laugh. “We’re all here because losing the kid was… it um – it really broke our hearts.” He swiped beneath his eye with the back of his palm angrily. “He meant a lot, and I think we’re all going to lead different lives from now on. The kid made sure all of us would never be the same without him, in – in a good way, I mean.”

May smiled brokenly at Tony, their eyes meeting with a cold but resolute sorrow. “We all loved him, w – with everything we could.” He twisted his watch over his wrist anxiously. “But um – I uh… I – I guess sometimes it’s not enough.” Tony’s voice broke. It crackled on the last word, his eyes shining as he shuffled from foot to foot. “I hope we can all remember him, t – to try and honour him as best we can.”

Tony glanced down at his feet when he saw May squeezing a boy’s shoulder tightly. He was tan, dark hair and a bit larger than Peter was – than Peter _had been_ – but he looked like the most capable out of everyone there to look after May. “I – I never got the chance t’ say… um,” Tony took a breath and bit the inside of his cheek so hard a fleshy piece of skin tore beneath his teeth. “How I really felt,” his voice wavered again. Happy looked up, his own eyes wet with emotion. “About the kid,” he breathed, “he meant everything. He was more than an intern is what – is what I guess I’m trying to say.”

Pepper looked up from her lap, a strand of hair slipping out from behind her ear as she nodded up at him reassuringly. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “So, I guess I hope he knows that. _Knew_ that.” Pepper wiped her cheek with a tissue, glancing over to where May had tears dripping down her own face.

“Thank you, Tony,” she said after a moment to gather herself. The woman touched his shoulder gently as he passed her at the podium.

“I meant it. I hope he knew I loved him too.” He managed through the lump which had grown to an acidic chokehold of grief in his throat. May nodded, a silent _he did_ , as she stepped up to speak.

As rude as it felt, Tony zoned out as soon as he had planted himself back in the same plastic chair. He could feel Rhodey’s worry burning through his every pore. May was speaking, tears still glistening on her cheeks like the steady drips of rain that rolled off the tarp above their heads.

“… I think he’d be – he’d be disappointed if he saw us now,” May laughed lightly. “He didn’t like wallowing.” Tony probed at the inside of his cheek again, closing his eyes to hold back the tears. “He loved us, and he made sure we all understood that in his own way.”

_“I got you this stuff from another one of those new coffee places that popped up a couple blocks away from the apartment,” Peter smiled. He dumped a gold bag of coffee beans on the lab desk beside Tony’s elbow. “You know it’s good when the barista looks like a hipster, right? Or at least I’d assume so.” He waved his fingers around in the air with a content sigh. “I don’t know much about caffeine, except that you like it.”_

Tony tightened his fists in his lap. His tongue throbbed from where he had bitten at it through May’s eulogy. She was back in her chair, Pepper’s hand on her shoulder and Ned holding her hand as he held back his own tears.

He never pictured this – a funeral – especially not Peter’s. He always imagined he would be the one to kick the bucket first, and Peter would be the one giving a eulogy through tears. Tony had lost his mother, his father too – although he had been less torn up over that – and Yinsen in Afghanistan. He never considered the possibility of having to struggle with the concept of losing what was effectively the closest thing he had to family aside from Pepper, Rhodey and Happy.

May wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, her fingers shaking slightly. “I’m just – I just want him to know that I’m sorry. We’re sorry. I wish he could’ve… h – had more of an opportunity to live his life.”

Tony winced. He didn’t want to think about how painfully young the kid is – _was_.

“Tony.”

There was a hand on his shoulder, he looked up. May was staring at him from the podium. “He adored you,” she said through her tears. “Never took the mask off after that expo.”

Tony smiled softly, another tear trailing down his face and hitting his black dress pants. “I’m glad you were a part of his life, and he was too.” She looked down at the surface of the podium as Tony reached up to rest his hands over his face. His shoulders trembled, Rhodey’s steadying hand didn’t do much to stop the silent sobs. “He loved you, being a part of your family.”

“Thank you,” he croaked. May laid her hand over her chest as she turned to focus on the boy in the front row beside where she had sat. Ted, or maybe Ned, Tony remembered. He phased out again when his attention wasn’t directly needed. He focused on the pieces of grass that clung to the moisture on the soles of his dress shoes.

There was a cavity in his chest, and he couldn’t stuff another arc reactor in the space that his protégé left behind. He wondered if Dum-E would whirr in the corner like he was waiting for Peter to bound into the lab like always.

_I miss him_.

The service didn’t last much longer. Ned spoke, Tony caught bits and pieces of what he was saying, and all he remembers from it was the little pang of guilt in his chest when he realised the Millennium Falcon he had bought two months ago for Peter’s sixteenth birthday wouldn’t ever get assembled. He made a mental note to have the box shipped to Ned’s address for when he wanted to remember his best friend.

There wasn’t much else. Everyone had said their piece, run out of tears to shed, given too many condolences. Tony sat in the backseat beside Pepper, idly nudging the back of Rhodey’s seat as the lack of road rage from Happy made everything much too depressing for him.

The city rolled by, Tony occupied himself with his face pressed against his palm, a grim look on his face to compliment the purple and black rings under his tired eyes. Pepper took his hand in her own, but even that didn’t defrost the layer of grief that sunk bone deep.

Even FRIDAY didn’t seem herself. Peter Parker was special enough to depress an artificial intelligence with his passing.

“You alright?” Rhodey asked carefully as the four of them reached the penthouse.

“Right as rain,” Tony answered stiffly. He rubbed the heel of his palm over his eyes and sighed. “Just might go get some stuff done in the lab. Call me if you need anything.” Happy, Pepper and Rhodey all looked like they wanted to protest, but even they knew there wasn’t much that could be done when Tony sunk into the swamps of misery. He was chin deep in forcing his way through anguish and there wasn’t anything to do aside from distract himself.

“I’m making pasta, I’ll have FRI send it up,” Pepper replied sadly. Tony accepted the press of lips against his forehead and even stayed still while Happy clapped his back and Rhodey squeezed his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

The bowl of food went cold, Dum-E went into sleep overnight and Tony tinkered meaninglessly for forty-two hours straight before slinking off into his room and trying to ignore the pit in his stomach which howled _there’s no lab session to look forward to_. Guilt throttled every inch of him and knowing that there was nothing he could have done didn’t do much.

_Why him? Why the kid?_

\---- **16th August 2017** \----

_He’s not sorry. He’s not sorry. How could anyone that twisted be capable of any emotion?_

Tony pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator. His knuckles were like sheets of paper, a stark white in the evening light filtering through the windshield. He gripped the wheel harder, blinking furiously despite not caring about the tears which blurred the road to the point where he didn’t even know which lane he was in.

_I’m not sorry. God, I could never be. I’ll enjoy this_.

The air around him thrummed thickly as he squeezed his eyes shut and clamped down on the accelerator. What he was doing would change everything. He choked on a laugh and bit the skin of his lip hard enough to slightly muffle the hysterical breaths heaving their way through the heavy lump blocking his throat.

_I want to do this. He hurt the kid_.

Tony locked his elbows and kept his eyes shut. His lashes stuck uncomfortably to his cheeks, tears stinging his skin.

_I have to take care of it_.

The white lines marking the edge of his lane blurred beneath the wheels of the car, and Tony lifted his foot above the breaks, waiting for impact.

There were a few endless seconds that kept him suspended in the moment before the eventual fall, and he savoured them more than he could savour anything else on Earth. Then the wheels stuttered, his foot slammed on the breaks as the entire body of the car reverberated in time to the sickening clap of body hitting bonnet.

_He’s not sorry_.

Glass from the windshield skittered across the asphalt. Tony’s eyes stayed shut. He could hear nothing, his head underwater, locked beneath the surface. He swore softly when there were footsteps crunching over mottled glass and bent metal. There was smoke from the hood of the car that concealed everything about his appearance.

Tears stained his jeans as he fumbled with his knuckles, ripping them from the steering wheel and slapping his wrist in a haze.

_So, so, not sorry_.

The air fizzled as the yelling began. Shouts for an ambulance were drowned out by the fuzzy vibrations emanating from the watch.

_There was no other option. He couldn’t stay and enjoy the mess he’d made_.

Light engulphed him but there wasn’t a sense of uncertainty like the first time, just resolved numbness pinning him to the moment, even if he wasn’t exactly ‘present’ mentally speaking. Tony watched the interior of the car fading as the screaming wound up. His throat was hoarse and pulled tight, so much that he thought it might snap.

_I wish I could have seen that man’s dying breath_.

\---- **18th August 2017** \----

Tony believed he had given a new meaning to self-loathing.

It probably isn’t self-loathing when you were busy loathing yourself from another timeline that had ruined your week.

Needless to say, sitting down with the kid and explaining why he’d been holed up in a safe house for an entire eight days was an exciting conversation to have.

“So, you weren’t _you_ last week when you dropped me off here?” The boy asked. Tony – the real one – nodded. “And this whole week you thought I was… everyone was told I was dead?” He nodded again.

“I don’t even know which timeline the other ‘Tony’ was from. All I know is that whatever was supposed to happen to you this week was bad enough to constitute hiding you out here.” Tony hoped the kid wouldn’t notice his tell.

He was violently aware of what was supposed to happen – what would have happened – to the kid this week. _Other timeline_ Tony had been prepared enough for _my_ scepticism.

_A collection of photographs, slightly bent, slightly out of focus._

_The kid, teary-eyed, bruised. Broken. Staring into the camera._

_Leather binding his swollen wrists. Blood dripping from his head._

_The horror in his eyes as the days progressed, and eventually the resigned, heart-breaking look on his face that screamed for release. To escape wherever he was, even if it meant death._

“What was supposed to happen to me?” Peter asked, curiosity dancing on his features.

_Bad, bad things. Things we could hardly fathom._

“You don’t need to worry about it, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> Real confusing, trust me I know. Jeez, why my brain like this?
> 
> \----
> 
> Give @spidersonangst @febufluff-whump (on Tumblr) all the credit, the only reason this is happening this month is because of them!


End file.
